The Fae and the Witch
by Jay Motley
Summary: Hermione Granger is at the peak of her success as an auror and is expecting some life altering, exciting news. When a rather unsupportive Ron manages to ruin her special night, Hermione wishes him away amongst her turmoil. Hermione is graciously granted 13 hours by the alluring Goblin King to save her boyfriend, although has some serious mixed feelings along the way. Two-shot.


_I Move the Stars for No One_

Hermione Granger prided herself in not only her unearthly intellect, but also her quick wit and common sense. She played by the rules—for the most part—and if she ever found herself in a sticky situation, she knew exactly how and why she succumbed to it and knew how to survive it. She supposed, most of all, she knew how to survive, the best. She was the brains behind every operation during the Great War with Harry and Ron, saving all three of their neck's countless times; she planned, deduced, and was strategic. When she could not plan, she was quick on her feet. When she is attacked, she knew how to counter. And she attacked—often.

Second to her intelligence and wit, she supposed her best asset was her Gryffindor bravery; it was not just blind, pretentious courage, no, Hermione acknowledged and felt her fear before chewing it and spitting it out, pushing her bravery forward with the roar of a great lioness. She would not succumb to fear and hesitancy; true bravery was knowing the dangers untold and still stepping forward to do the right thing.

So, Hermione _knew _that the reason she stood before the great, albeit worn castle in the heart of the labyrinth, was due to that bravery. But she also knew it was her own foolishness that got her in this predicament in the first place. She was the Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement, for _goodness sake! _A position not easily won, least of all for a witch; Hermione was diligent and strong in the trials of being an Auror for the last ten years, holding no prisoners, least of all Ron or Harry. It was healthy competition. Hermione was more than happy to submit to Harry Potter as his second—she truly found he deserved it.

Ron? Not so much—no, not the Harry Potter part, but _Hermione's _promotion. If she cared to admit, their relationship was on the rocks for nearly two years now, which all began once they became eligible contestants for department head; competition was steep—but only for Auror Weasley; he had much slack to make up for, and honestly, his skills were not up to par with Harry or Hermione. He was rash in pragmatic situations, hesitant during those that needed urgency and cleverness, both resulting in mission hindrance; Ron hated the bureaucratic nonsense, often brushing it off to a newer recruit, and he still often relied on his two best friends to keep his reputation afloat, getting by on the skirts of their cloaks.

But that was just the beginning.

Hermione turned a blind eye to many transgressions made by one Ronald Weasley after a falling out they had when he found out she, too, would be petitioning for head of department. Late, boozy nights with the younger officers, allowing the sun to beat him home, which almost always ended in argument when Hermione would smell perfume waft from his clothes.

_You're paranoid, _he would say.

_If I was messing around, I would have reason to, _he never failed to mention.

_I want a family and a house, _he would say with finality, knowing the blow was deep.

That was usually when Hermione stopped arguing. It was when she would stop crying. Hermione knew all these things: she knew what he wanted, nearly ten years into their relationship; she knew he harbored this resentment towards her for not being the domesticated girlfriend he wanted. Hermione knew this was why she was _still _a girlfriend, and not a wife. He never failed knocking her down a few pegs, his words and everything said in between affecting her for weeks on end, until she would rise again and store it away deep in her heart.

_Oh, _butthe night of the tenth Victory Ball was the last straw for Hermione Granger.

_10__th__ Victory Anniversary Ball_

She had perused shops both magical and muggle for the perfect gown, excited for what she felt was an inevitable personal victory and wanted, for once, to feel and look the part. The new heads of the DMLE were to be announced at 10:38PM that night, 35 minutes after the enchanted orchestra finished their interlude, promptly. So there she stood before the full sized mirror in her bedroom, done up in a way she barely recognized; her chestnut hair was parted down the middle and hung slick down her back, brushing over her bum—she made note to get a much needed haircut—and golden ornate clips shimmered on either side of her head like a fantastical fairy. Her gown was satin and burgundy, naturally, with straps hanging off her shoulders before curving into the perfect sweetheart plunge; she saw herself blush in the mirror at the sight of her cleavage, having made purpose to hide her assets all these years. Her eyes roved down to the risqué slit that ran from the mermaid flared skirt up the body-hugging satin, and she shifted her knee through it, baring her leg and catching the glimmer of her golden heels.

She felt ethereally beautiful in that moment, and she smiled radiantly through wine colored lips at herself. With a quick spray of her perfume, she made way to meet Ron in the living room, where she was met with a rather large pile of books on the coffee table and no boyfriend insight. Hermione felt that usual twitter of excitement in her belly as she always did when gifted with new books and hurried over to inspect the stack, only to feel her excitement crash to the floor and her smile fade.

_Kid's books._

_ Baby books._

Hermione's nose scrunched up involuntarily as she pushed each disheveled book around with a finger, reading title after title of wizarding children's unknown to her, before her honey eyes fell on a rather familiar red, leather bound book that seemed to know less love than the rest. She felt mesmerized by it for a second, her hand lingering over the imprinted words, before a door opened behind her. She whipped around to see her red-headed lover standing in the bathroom doorway, absently and messily tying his bowtie, and wearing a lazy smile. He looked handsome, she had to admit, and felt stomach flutter with anticipation when his blue eyes roved over her body.

"Hi," he said as he turned from her to catch his reflection in a picture frame. "Blimey, you took a long time. Are you ready?"

Hermione's face quivered slightly as she fought her crestfallen expression, her mind circling back to how many times he had ever complimented her or made her feel good about herself—it was very little. She quickly swallowed down the disappointed and smiled, embarrassment tinging her cheeks, as she pointed to her head.

"Hair," was all she said. Ron nodded.

"I like it best this way," he said as he turned from her again and began gathering their cloaks. Hermione blinked as she touched her hair lightly; she loved how it looked this way. It was different and manageable, but it wasn't really her.

"Um, what are these books, Ron?" she asked, shaking away her insecurities and frowning at him. He shrugged.

"They're the books I told you Mum had."

"Yes, but they're _children _books—"

"Well, not all of 'em. That goblin one is kind of—"

"That's not the point!" Hermione snapped, losing herself. She felt the blood pump harshly in her veins but she took a deep breath in and exhaled, shaking her head. "Your mother has been overstepping boundaries for years now. You know how I feel about—"

"Yeah, I _know, _Hermione. You care more about your job than anything else," Ron snapped back, shooting her an angry look. Hermione felt the hairs on her body bristle up.

"We both know I do not. We work together and come home around the same time. I am with you _every _night, and home _every _weekend. There's nothing different between you and I, except what is between our legs," she said in a low tone. Ron turned to her, red in the face, bewildered.

"And what's that suppose to mean!" he exclaimed. Hermione sighed and rounded the coffee table again, gathering the books and placing them on the entry table where some muggle mail lay.

"You are trying to mold me into something I have never been, Ronald," she said, her voice rather defeated. She fought the tears that burned her eyes so badly. "I'm not saying it's not okay to want kids, to stay home with them, to cook and bake—I can do all of those things, _one day, _and still have a career. I don't have to choose. I don't want to."

"But, 'Mione—"

"Every time we fight, this is what it comes down to," Hermione interrupted with a sigh as she glanced at the stack of books again. A frown pulled at her lips and she could feel the onslaught of tears threatening her mascara, so she looked up, trying to blink them away. "I love you, Ron, but I cannot be _everything._"

With that, Hermione grabbed her light fur cloak and invitation, casting her boyfriend a sad smile.

"You look good in that new bowtie," she muttered softly. "I'll see you at the ball."

Hermione found herself interacting with many more people than she would have liked during the social hours before the Victory Ball officially started, and shot back several flutes of champagne to deal help cope with it all. Most conversations began with _"Is Mr Weasley with you?", _to which she wove a quick story to excuse his tardiness and satiate the known gossipers. Her eyes lingered to the enchanted countdown that glowed above the lobby of the venue and she frowned.

_He should be here by now. It starts soon._

Hermione then caught sight of the Weasley clan, Ginny being the first to spot her; she mouthed to her best friend.

_Where's Ron?_

_ I don't know! _Hermione mouthed back. She giggled to herself at the dramatic eye roll Ginny cast her, openly laughing and earning herself a few questionable looks after the redhead theatrically slid her finger over her own throat and crossed her eyes.

Hermione loved Ginny with all her heart, and she appreciated that most of the Weasley's understood and supported Hermione's decisions and often sided with her whenever Ron and Molly got their feathers bristled. Ginny was just as defiant and resilient as she , and luckily figured a healthy balance between her career and family time; Harry didn't ask for her to change, and has always been his usually empathetic self when it came to his wife. They were ideal, in her eyes. Hermione watched with mild horror as Molly Weasley turned around and spotted her, her wrinkled eyes darting around for her son, but felt immediate relief once the countdown began blinking to inform everyone to get to their seats. Hermione was thankful that spouses and partners of the DMLE were sat together, allowing the young witch a Molly-free dining and entertainment by the enchanted orchestra.

She sat beside Harry and Ginny, surrounded by other aurors she didn't know too well and their partners, listening in here and there during their light conversation, but her mind was elsewhere as the seat beside her was cold and empty. Glancing around, Hermione could see a few invading eyes look her way, turning to their counterparts in whispers—she just knew Rita Skeeter was _somewhere _here, and internally groaned at the thought of what the _Prophet _would say about her missing date. Hermione felt anxiety bubble in her as she absently chewed at her bottom lip, tuning out everything around her, only sparing Kingsley Shacklebolt a look here and there as she spoke at the podium; Hermione was so far in her thoughts, worried about where Ron was, anxious about the gossip, that she only snapped back into reality when a bright beam of light nearly blinded her and Harry hugged her tightly.

"Congratulations Hermione! Deputy Head of DMLE!" he said enthusiastically, his bright eyes glancing at the chair beside her, faltering slightly. His voice hushed for a moment. "Focus, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, blinking away tears of warring emotions, before standing tall from her chair amidst raging cheers and whistles. She gave a small smile which only widened as the adrenaline of what just happened began coursing through her, and she gracefully ascended to the podium. Kingsley shook her hand with vigor, ever the professional, though a proud glint shone in his dark eyes as he passed Hermione a golden badge with her last name emblazoned across it. She fingered it softly with her well-manicured nails, swallowing down a sob before looking up at the Minister and impulsively hugging him. She felt him stiffen in her arms, light laughter echoing the ballroom, before he gave her a tight hug back. He bent and whispered in her ear to announce the official Head of DMLE and she fought to keep her eyes shot to her dining table, heart pounding.

She met spectacled ones, proud and shining with love, as her friend clapped and whistled for her, and she fought a grin—that suddenly fell as she watched her boyfriend of almost ten years slip in the chair beside Harry, robes and hair disheveled. His eyes slowly met hers, and Hermione felt her heart stop at the smeared lipstick around his lips. Her face fell slightly as she stood at the podium, eyes locked on her lover, not at all noticing the murmurs the crowd fell into. She watched as Harry made a face at her and followed her line of sight to his best mate, his own face contorting with rage as he shifted away from Ron and muttered to Ginny.

"I…" began Hermione, blinking away tears once more. Ron gave her an apologetic look, and she snapped her eyes away and scanned the crowd. There were so many people here; amidst faces she did not know, she saw a handful she did, and felt emotional and their outward display of support. Former professors, classmates, and co-workers. People she loved, and who she knew loved her. She laughed nervously and cast a quick, wandless sonorous. "Thank you."

Kind laughter surrounded her before claps echoed again. Hermione mentally shook off the looming feeling of another one of Ron's transgressions, and smiled broadly. "It is my honor to be your Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But it is my _greatest _honor to announce your new official Head. Harry Potter!"

The crowded exploded once more as small enchanted fireworks began popping around their heads. Harry jumped up stiffly, his face bright red, before nearly staggering up to the podium alongside Hermione. The lights of the cameras were blinding, frantic voices of the paparazzi calling their names here and there for the perfect angle. Hermione felt Harry squeeze her hand beside her and she looked up at him with a frozen smile, masking away her turmoil. His green eyes stared into hers knowingly as his lips were firmly lined; he hugged her tightly, whispering words of encouragement into her ear, unbeknownst to the photographers who simply saw it as a lovely moment between two war veterans…

Hermione pulled away from her thoughts as she felt her heart pound erratically, staring up at the ominous gates that surrounded Goblin City, catching a glimpse of a goblin or two peaking their ugly heads over the parapet walks, their high-pitched voices incomprehensible as they argued. The ball was _hours _ago; surely someone would realize they were missing. She tightly grasped her wand as she inhaled deeply, harnessing her bravery through pure exhaustion; scrapes and bruises marred her legs and arms, and grime clung to her torn ball gown that was barely held together on her body. Long gone were her heels—she threw them off hours prior before _him _when she accepted the challenge of the Labyrinth, much to the millennia old being's amusement, who smirked at her with unreadable eyes.

_Thirteen hours, _he had said, almost purring. He grimaced slightly. _Thirteen hours to save him before he becomes probably one of my most useless goblins._

_ Hermione had her wand on him the entire time, unwavering and strong like a statue of Athena herself. She watched as he eyed her curiously with mismatched eyes as a vague smile played at his lips, tapping his riding crop in deep thought against his thigh. Her gaze did not falter from him which made her all the more uncomfortable—Gods, was he handsome. His face looked as if it was chiseled from smooth marble, perfect in any angle you caught him, his blond hair and poise rivaling that of any Malfoy. But behind that debonair ego, Hermione could see the King was hiding more; there was a devious, haunting, and even a little boyish glint in his eye as if she were a small hare unwittingly exploring a wolf's den. She felt her cerebral walls raise and her face slip into a smooth mask, which only caused the Fae King to grin wider, brows raising elegantly. _

_ "Unfortunately for me, I cannot read minds," he said, his voice teasing. "Although I am sure I can guess some of your wicked thoughts."_

_ The Goblin King rounded on her, his fingers tapping gently against his lips as he took her in. Hermione did not move, but her eyes were hawk-like as she watched his every move and her wand did not waver from the ready. He stopped in front of her, mere inches away, and Hermione was surprised to see his devilish face rather serious. _

_ "You look lovely, you know. You don't seem to be the type to parade like this often," he said as he ran a gentle gloved hand over an ornate clip. "Although, I'm sure you look lovely any other day."_

_ Hermione flinched away from him and gave the fae a stern, very Hermione look. She watched as his eyes widened with mirth, his lips twitching again. He held his hand up in defeat, not pressing his unwarranted contact with her, then bent a little to meet her ear. _

_ "Twelve hours and forty-three minutes. Good luck, Hermione."_

_ The Goblin King vanished. _

She scoured the labyrinth for what felt like days after that, with nothing but her wand and the sound of her own growling stomach to keep her company; Hermione was tested not only in smarts and will power, but in patience, mostly, as her magic was not as penetrable in this world as it were in her own. Hermione had tried numerous charms to raise her high above the maze only to have its foreboding walls shook with a grumble and shoot up higher and higher as she floated; she saw this was not an option, and as she safely descended back to the cobblestone, as did the walls.

Hermione then tried apparating, only to appear back where she once left. She tried this several times, leaving one of her ornate clips on the floor to test, only to be disappointed when she saw it before her the fifth time. She groaned and leaned against the wall, ignoring the beady eyes of the moss creatures that snaked around beside her.

_I should just leave him here, _she had thought. He deserved it, she felt. He had hurt her, _embarrassed _her, for the millionth time. Hermione didn't know why the words from an old childhood book came to her, but when Ron turned from her and yanked his hands from her crying form in a secluded corridor, they spilled from her tongue with devastation.

_I wish the goblins would come take away you right now._

And thus, Hermione Granger found herself Underground amongst an array of creatures she never saw or read about in her life; she was in a world so unlike and like hers that the paradox of it all made her head hurt. Up was down and down was up; she nearly drowned in the Bog of Eternal stench, almost beheaded by a gang of fiery wild things, and was sure she was concussed by the fall that landed her in a damp oubliette.

But still, she persisted.

The sound of a sputtering horn from above startled her, and Hermione knew the fanfare was antagonizing a war between her and the cretins. She sent a jinx towards the offending goblin and it squealed as it catapulted back. There was a sound of wood and metal grinding against each other as the bridge began descending down slowly over the putrid moat; Hermione reacted instinctually and whipped her wand before her.

"_Bombarda Maxima!" _she yelled. Magic shot from her wand with aggressive force as her attack hit the gate with a loud explosion, causing rubble to fall into the water below and cracks web up the foundation. Agilely, Hermione ran past several armed goblins and jumped the gaping space between she and the edge of the entry way and barely made it as her feet teetered. She slumped a shoulder against the stone, allowing herself a moment to breathe and the overpowering adrenaline to subside to a healthy dose within her. A charging goblin came around the corner as she stepped forth into the square, but she simple sent a quick _stupefy _at it, disorienting the poor creature until it fell with a _clank _from makeshift armor.

Before she knew it, Hermione found herself surrounded by dozens of goblins of different sizes and colors; some were reptilian, filled with warts, and others resembled many of those from her own world, albeit, which less intelligence. Her eyes snapped to a rampart where a few goblins bore crude spears.

"Stop her!" yelled one. The gleam of the daggers shone in the low sun above her and Hermione reacted quickly; she whipped her wand around in an arc as a defensive shield encased her like an orb, causing the incoming spears to ricochet off and knock a few of the foot soldiers down like bowling pins.

"Attack!"

The goblins rushed her protective shield and began attack mercilessly; a few of the small ones climbed up the taller goblins and jump at her with half destroyed axes and swords, only to be shot back immediately. Although they were stupid and small, Hermione had to admit they were foolishly strong and loyal; she found great difficulty pushing through the crowd of changelings, holding her hands up to push her magic through the neverending ocean of goblins. She saw her protective sphere flicker like a dying light bulb and she sighed—Hermione was truly exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. It was an overwhelming day, but she knew the responsible thing to do was to save Ron Weasley from a fate she caused.

_Just to kick him out of my flat when this is all over, _she mentally grumbled to herself. _I am so done with Ron. _

Hermione was mere feet from the archway of the castle when she felt her shield falter with exhaustion; she caught sight of a few vines and shrubs growing against the castle walls and, wielding as much strength as she could muster, muttered a quiet incantation at plants. They stirred with vigor as their spines unraveled from the stone walls and down the stairs, coiling and snaking into a thick, impenetrable wall of botany between the goblins and Hermione.

"Hey!"

"How she do that?"

"Oi, let us in!"

"Jareth will like this one!"

Hermione slinked through the doors of the Goblin King's castle and paused as her large eyes roved around the surprising grandeur within; it was well-lit and smelled like honeysuckles, and Hermione could hear something like a waterfall echo within. Small sprites zipped around in small green hazes, their incomprehensible chatter reaching the witch's ear like silver bells. Hermione walked carefully, her wand hanging at her side, as she felt enamored by the ethereal heart of Goblin City. It was not as terrifying as she imagined it to be after the Hell she experienced out in the labyrinth for the ten hours.

Hermione quickened her pace through the castle as the smell of something delicious invaded her nostrils and caused her stomach to growl unattractively. She made left down a long corridor that reminded her of Hogwarts, where odd statues of different creatures stood proud and defending, and gently pushed open a rather heavy door she found at the end of it. She was shocked to see a bright dining room filled top to bottom with gleaming marble, and her stomach growled once more at the sight of strange, yet delicious looking food presented on the long table.

"Mione!" came a voice. Hermione jumped and rose her wand only to stagger slightly at the sight of a rather pleased looking Ron sitting in the head seat. His mouth was dirtied with some powder sugar as he waved her in.

"Ron," she breathed, dropping her arm again. She quickly trotted around the large dining table and nearly tackled her boyfriend out from chair. "Thank goodness you're alright. You are alright, right? Are you hurt?"

Ron pealed himself from her and shook his head, a weird look on his face as he looked her over. "You have mud on you…and twigs in your hair. You look awful, Hermione."

Hermione froze as she looked into the judging eyes of the boy she loved for half of her life. Her hand absently ran across her hair and pulled a few small twigs and leaves out, dropping them to the floor.

"And your dress is all messed up," he said through a mouthful of whatever before swallowing. He sniffed and his face contorted again. "And that _smell—"_

"Ron," Hermione said, her voice deflated. She looked around as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She knew they were being watched. "We need to get out of here. And you shouldn't be eating that, you don't know anything about this world."

"I dunno. The blond bloke seemed nice enough."

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. "You spoke with the Goblin King?"

Ron shrugged.

"And you just thought it would be okay to eat whatever he served you."

"Well, he said you'd come here and find me, and I was hungry, so I figured it couldn't hurt," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if anything he was saying sounded logical to any other self-sufficient adult. It was pretentious, and Hermione hated it. "I mean, you were in that oubliette for an awful long—"

"How..how did you know that?" asked Hermione, frowning. She stood and stepped back from him.

"He showed me in a crystal ball," said Ron, snorting. "Trelawney would love that guy—"

"Stop," said Hermione, putting her hands out to shut him up. "You saw me in there…and didn't do anything? You didn't try and fight him?"

"What was I supposed to do! He said he, '_she shouldn't have gotten as far as the oubliette', _then disappeared," explained Ron, mimicking the Goblin King's voice. "Afterall, _you _wished _me _away."

"I…I was upset. You were off doing whatever with whomever, and you weren't there for me…again," Hermione said in a quiet voice as she leaned against a chair. She could feel her heartbeat thrum against her chest and her eyes grow heavy with exhaustion; she needed to sit. She needed to eat and needed water. She heard Ron sigh and her eyes snapped to him as he reached for something resembling a truffle.

"If you just stayed home—"

Hermione had heard enough. Before she knew it, her hand collided against Ron's cheek, causing it to inflame as bright as his hair. She was _tired, _and not just in this moment; she had been tired for years. She had goals and ambitions; she had unplanned setbacks that made her feel like she would never become the great witch she aimed for, but always persevered over the odds, despite Hell or high water. Hermione realized that not only was she carrying the weight of her own expectations on her shoulders, but the unrealistic and unwanted opinions of a man who held no light to her own. A manwho was intimidated by her skill and success and so insecure of his own progression, that he had a special box made for her to fit in, rattling off requirements and hard-limits for his perfect partner.

"I think that is quite enough," came the rather cool voice of the Goblin King from behind her. When Hermione turned, she saw his eyes were as icy as his tone, holding no warmth, although it was not she that he regarded so cruelly. He raised a gloved hand and tossed a clear ball at the red-headed man, but instead of shattering, the delicate thing made a nearly inaudible _pop!_, like a bubble, against Ron's chest. Ron's eyes crossed as he slumped in the chair and fell into obvious slumber, snores trailing quickly.

Hermione turned back to the Goblin King. "Jareth."

Jareth the Goblin King's unusual eyes fell back to Hermione although was void of any cruelty and distaste, although Hermione was unsure if the evident mischief that danced within them was any better. The tall fae king bowed gracefully to the champion of his labyrinth, deep and respectful.

"You have won the Labyrinth, Hermione," he said in a rather royal voice. "However, could you entertain an old King like me once more?"

**A/N: Guys, I honestly do not know where this came from. My parents got me a visual history book of the Labyrinth, and I guess that triggered all of this, haha! I feel like less and less people remember the Labyrinth and that kind of makes me sad. Either way, this is only a two shot. The next chapter should be along sometime this week. This was just for fun! **


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